Chapter 1
The heir of the Hawthorne family, Nathaniel Hawthorne was a madman.
Anyone who crossed him would face his ruthless vengeance.
Unfortunately, the stepsister Isabella Montgomery I despised most was the very person he cherished.
One day, she deliberately smashed my mother, Catherine Sinclair’s ashes, and I broke her arm in public.
The next day, Mr. Hawthorne had me dragged into a dark room, my limbs shattered, my tendons severed.
With my last ounce of strength, I called out to the bodyguard I trusted most.
But the kidnappers addressed him as “Mr. Hawthorne.”
In that moment, despair swallowed me whole.
I longed for death-but Nathaniel was the one who lost his mind.
***
I picked Nathaniel up off the streets.
That day, a storm raged as he was cornered in an alley by a mob.
Leaning against the car window, I watched with detached amusement as he fought for survival in the downpour.
His movements were mesmerizing-each punch, each kick, executed with lethal grace. His drenched shirt clung to his perfectly sculpted muscles, droplets of water dancing along his skin like scattered pearls.
Even when blood streamed down his face from a vicious blow, the crimson only accentuated his beauty-sharp, tragic, like a masterpiece designed to pierce the soul.
Outnumbered, he was eventually beaten down.
Only after he lay battered, ribs broken, did I finally step out of the car and call the police.
The thugs scattered.
I reached out to him. “I saved your life. Will you protect me for three years in return?”
The icy rain lashed against his striking features.
He lifted his gaze, his dark eyes fathomless, indifferent.
When he didn’t answer, I took it as agreement.
I wasn’t some naive do-gooder-just momentarily captivated.
No one in this world loved me. I simply wanted to choose a family for myself.
And he-he was beautiful enough, broken enough, alone enough.
Chapter 1
For three years, I pursued him. For three years, he remained cold.
Like a proud, untamed cat, no matter how much I doted on him, he remained aloof, as if no one deserved his affection.
It was… amusing, in a way.
He didn’t love me, but at least, whenever I was in danger, he was always the first to appear and pull me from the brink.
That was enough.
Until the banquet where he met Isabella-my most hated stepsister-and fell for her at first sight.
And thus began the greatest calamity of my life.
One day, Isabella “tripped” after an argument with me.
The next, I was pushed down a flight of stairs, left with a severe concussion.
One day, my best friend, Megan Calloway disgusted by Isabella’s venomous act, made her drink a glass of wine as
payback.
The next, I was force-fed three pounds of hard liquor until my stomach ruptured.
In just a few months, I endured relentless retaliation.
And behind it all was that lunatic heir of the Hawthorne family.
No one knew how Isabella had won his favor, but the entire city knew one thing-Nathaniel treasured her like a jewel. No
one was allowed to so much as lay a finger on her..
Gradually, my friends vanished. Even Megan began to distance herself.
Her final warning to me was-“Stop provoking Isabella. If you don’t, that madman will destroy you.”
So what?
When Isabella deliberately shattered Catherine’s urn to provoke me, I still beat her bloody in public-crushing her
wretched hands until the bones cracked.
The next day, I was kidnapped, hauled to an abandoned warehouse, my tendons severed, my limbs broken.
“Mr. Hawthorne, we’ve taught her a lesson as you ordered.*
A misclick activated the speakerphone-and a chillingly familiar voice replied, “Warn her. If she dares lay a finger on Isabella again, I’ll end her.”
Cold. Cruel. Unmistakably him.
I couldn’t believe it.
How could it be him?
Why him?
Chapter 1
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After delivering the warning, the kidnappers tossed a phone at me. “Call whoever you want to save you. Remember this
lesson.”
To humiliate me further, they smeared the phone with a milky, foul-smelling liquid.
I didn’t move. I just lay there, staring blankly at their smug faces.
Ten minutes later, bored by my lack of reaction, they finally left.
Before the warehouse door closed, I overheard their final call, “Mr. Hawthorne, she has the phone. You’re the one she
trusts most-she’ll call you first, just like always…”
The last flicker of hope in my heart died.
Nathaniel… was truly that deranged heir of the Hawthorne family.
Lucia Morh is a passionate storyteller who brings emotions to life through her words. When she’s not writing, she finds peace nurturing her garden.